


The Quiet After

by sixbeforelunch



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen, POV First Person, Post-Heroes fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-19
Updated: 2007-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-07 04:36:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixbeforelunch/pseuds/sixbeforelunch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel keeps going. Spoilers for Heroes part 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Quiet After

It hits me right after we get our post-mission medical clearance. It's not that Janet isn't there to welcome us home. It's that she'll never be there again. Ever.

I walk on numb legs to the locker room, shower and dress on auto-pilot, and sit heavily on the bench in front of my locker. The image of Janet dying flashes through my mind. She didn't even have time for last words; one second she was there, the next, she wasn't. Like my parents.

Some people wonder if it's better to lose someone suddenly or over a long period of time. I've done both. They both hurt like hell.

I lose track of time. It's Jack who pulls me out of my thoughts.

"Daniel?"

I don't turn around. "Yeah?"

"We're supposed to debrief in...ten minutes ago. You coming?"

"Yeah." I don't move.

He's hovering, not sure what to do. "Janet?"

I swallow hard. "She's never going to be there again, Jack."

"I know." There's a long pause and I can see Jack's face--conflicted, angry, and upset--as though I were looking at him. "You want me to stick around?"

I smile a little. There's a reason Jack and I are friends despite the fact that we're both moody, opinionated, and stubborn. We both know when to push and when to back off. I trust Jack to know when "go away" means leave and when it means stay.

"No, I'm good," I say.

Jack lays his hand on my shoulder. "Okay. I'll tell Hammond you're running a little late."

The door creaks a little as he leaves.

Well, he gets it right most of the time anyway.

Hot tears well up in my eyes. I press my palms against them until stars appear and take a shaky breath.

Every time I lose someone I think about how I don't have the strength to go through it again. You'd think I'd know by now. Strength has nothing to do with it. The situation is what it is. There's no magic inner fortitude that gets me through it. It just hurts and it keeps on hurting and there's nothing to be done about it. Eventually there will be another crisis and then another and another and I won't have time to grieve anymore. Time will pass and in six months I'll look back and wonder how I survived this one too. It won't be because of anything I did. It will be because life keeps going and you either keep up or you die too.

I'm not ready to let myself die quite yet.

The off-world activation alarm goes off. I grab my glasses off of the bench and put them on. Time for another crisis. Time to keep going.


End file.
